Another Wasted Evening
by Rhianwen
Summary: (Pre-OVA) Sometimes, it’s just not your lucky day. This is Drake Anderson, and it's NEVER his lucky day. (Warning: Blatant Silliness Ahead)


Another Wasted Evening

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Summary: (Pre-OVA) Sometimes, it's just not your lucky day. He's Drake Anderson, and this is his story. (Warning: Blatant Silliness Ahead)

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Disclaimer: I don't own them, they don't like me. Except this time, it's a whole new set of characters not liking me, since I'm giving Joker and Wendy an evening off and writing about someone else! So, basically, Joker and Wendy like me right now, but Drake and Yomiko do not. Nor does Mr. Gentleman, who would like to take this opportunity to assure everyone that he is really not an idiot, and it's all my influence. Funny; that's what everyone says:o)

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And now, oooooooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!

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The blonde made a pretty picture, standing behind the counter of the donut joint. And after the kind of evening I'd had, I needed all I could get to cheer me up.

She had it all; big eyes that kind of reminded a guy of a day at the beach; cute little nose. Don't know if it was a button nose or not; I don't know what a button nose looks like. Sounds pretty freakish, if you ask me.

The little paper hat that revealed her place within this blood-sucking multi-national corporation of fried and sugared snacks sat on her head in a cute sort of way. I heard a word once that would just about describe it: jaunty.

Yeah; her hat was jaunty.

Or something like that.

Shut up. This is why I don't talk much.

I didn't drop my eyes to take in anything below the neck. She was a fresh, innocent-looking little thing, and she was too young for me. Or I was too old for her. Whatever it was, it would keep apart these two lonely people just trying to make their way in this mixed-up world.

So I turned my attention to something else: the tray in her hands.

It made an even prettier picture to a man who's just spent the last two hours on the rooftop of a building, in the middle of a damp, chilly night. Steaming hot coffee, chicken sandwich made fresh to order, and a cup of tea and a muffin for the other poor shmuck to suffer through this evening.

I took the tray from the donut-girl and crossed the room to a little booth in the corner where a figure in a weird-looking coat was sitting, hunched over a book.

The other poor shmuck.

Yomiko Readman. Agent Paper. Or The Paper. Or sometimes Zaaa Peeepahhhh, depending on who you ask.

Biggest disaster to my mental state I've ever met.

Pretty cute, too. Even more than the donut girl.

Always has her nose in a book; sometimes has it in two at once.

I still don't know how that works; her nose isn't even that big.

Don't always know what to make of her paper powers, either. Makes me a little uneasy to know that she could slice my head off with the wrapper her muffin came in if she wanted to make off with my sandwich.

Maybe I should just share.

Still, there's no denying that her powers have got us through some ugly situations.

Tonight wasn't one of them.

Hard to get through an ugly situation when it doesn't happen.

Whose bright idea was it to send us out on a useless stake-out on the coldest night of the year?

Right. I remember what bastard decided our sad fate.

Joker.

He loves doing things like this. Phoning people up and interrupting their lives for stupid things like stake-outs that don't lead to anything else, sending his agents out to freeze their asses off on some rooftop in the middle of the night. I bet he was sitting in his warm, cosy office the whole time we were out on that roof, cackling at our misery and sending his secretary to get him more tea.

Yeah, it was the middle of the night, but the guy's a workaholic.

Hell, I'd be a workaholic, too, if I got all the easy jobs. And a cute little secretary to get me things and keep me warm.

Still, it's kinda tough on the guy's poor secretary. He wants to pull an all-nighter, so she's gotta stay with him.

Damn...what was her name again?

Winnie, or something. Close enough.

Little Winnie made a pretty nice picture herself, in Joker's office earlier, when she brought in some coffee.

I have a thing for girls who are bringing me coffee. Yeah, the feminists hate me. And I love it.

Would've been even better if she hadn't tripped on a book and dumped it in my lap.

It's pretty embarrassing to try to suck coffee out of your pants in front of a guy you suspect goes for manicures because there's no damn way you're staying awake without the caffeine.

Hey, Winnie didn't have to wait until I was already doubled over and everyone in the room was laughing to tell me that she'd just bring me another cup.

Still, she's pretty cute, too. Scrawny little thing, but those legs are a hell of a sight when she goes flying and that skirt rides right up. She's got the big, blue day-at-the-beach eyes, too. With the way she's always tripping over things, and dropping things (the ones she's not tripping over, I mean), she reminds me more of a day at the beach that got interrupted when Jaws attacked or something.

Yeah, okay. Quit laughing, and shut up. This is my story.

Not that it's much of a story.

Stupid Joker.

Alright, so I guess technically, there was a chance that the nut we're after could have shown up on that rooftop with Mr. Gentleman's teddy bear in tow; what with him living there and all.

I still can't believe we spent the whole goddamn night chasing a teddy bear. Even an antique, one-of-a-kind teddy bear. And I really didn't need to know that the old guy can't sleep without it.

But apparently, some girl out there is attracted to the kind of guy who goes around stealing other peoples' stuffed animals (sick woman), because the guy wasn't home when we got there, and Joker, the sadistic bastard, asked us to stick around and wait when we phoned to tell him that.

So, we went up to the roof to wait after the landlord got mad at us for scaring his tenants.

We were supposed to be keeping an eye on the front door for any signs of the bear-napper, but wouldn't you know, the second we got settled, Agent Paper whipped out a book.

Yeah, so that's not exactly true.

If she was going to take it out, she would have had to put it away at some point. And she'd been reading the whole way over in the van.

So, that left me to watch out for the guy.

And while I was staring down at the street below, it began to hit me that maybe I was being too hard on Mr. Gentleman. After all, there are a lot of people in the world like him.

Take my daughter, for example. Maggie can't sleep unless she's got her plushie elephant.

I just hope that by the time she's hundreds of years old and ruling a country behind the scenes, she's kicked the habit.

We sat there like that for about an hour – me watching the road and Agent Paper watching her book – before I had to go...take a walk by myself. Damn coffee I'd been drinking all night. So, I called Agent Paper over to watch the entrance to the building while I was gone.

Only took four times before she heard me.

Only took another three before she actually got up and started over.

Gotta say, I was impressed.

Until it hit me that she really wasn't going to look up from her book long enough to find out where the roof ended.

Yeah, that became pretty obvious when she walked right off the edge.

Good thing I was nearby to catch her. Grabbed her by the back of the coat before she could drop more than a few inches.

She just kept right on walking. Didn't even notice that the ground wasn't there.

I set her back down on the roof, and she wandered off in the other direction, nose still in that damned book.

Five minutes later, I tucked her book into my pocket and went to the gas station down the street.

I was only gone about fifteen minutes, but I think it was hard on Agent Paper. She was pretty pale when I came back, from what I could make out in the dark. And she was shaking a bit.

I've never seen someone weep with relief to see a book before.

Well, first time for everything, right?

So, she went back to reading, and I went back to watching the road and freezing my ass off again, until my phone rang.

Here's something you may not know: when your phone rings in a situation like that – when things can't possibly get any worse – it means one of two things: either something very good has happened (rare), or it means things just have gotten worse.

Consider, if you will, that it had not been my lucky day.

So, kids, you think we got A or B?

If you picked A, shut up.

Yeah; call was from Joker, who told me that Agent Paper and I might as well head back.

I asked why.

He said there was no point waiting for the guy.

I asked why.

He said that we were only waiting because we thought that he might have Mr. Gentleman's teddy bear, and it was now certain that this wasn't the case.

I asked why.

He said it was because of a new development, and for some reason, he called me Junior.

I think the guy's losing it.

That opinion didn't change when he told me what the "new development" was.

They found the damn teddy bear.

Turns out, Joker stepped on it, and he didn't think Mr. Gentleman would like the big, muddy footprint across the thing. So, he gave it to Winnie – who has since glared at me and told me that her name's Wendy, not Winnie, and started calling me Dirk, just to show me, like I care – to wash it, but she accidentally ripped the arm off, and it took her a while to figure out that she can't sew worth a damn. So,_ Winnie_ (heh-heh-heh...) passed it off to her landlady, who didn't ask too many questions.

Smart woman.

I asked why no one had considered this maybe before calling in Agent Paper and me, and Joker just made a noise that sounded like a shrug, and said they'd been under a lot of stress.

Yeah, I'll show you stress, you...

Anyway.

That about sums it all up. Another wasted evening that I'll never get back.

Still, I got a sandwich and some pretty good coffee out of the deal. And I got to meet the donut girl.

I guess it wasn't a total loss.

...Yeah. Yeah, it was.

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End Notes: Uh…right. It's not particularly good, but I've been dying to do a Drake story. So, until I can think of an idea for one, you're stuck with this. :o)

And I deeply apologize for turning Drake into a hardboiled 1940'sdetective cliche, but it all stems from his dub voice in ROD TV. Which I love, by the way, but it does keep making me expect him to call Nenene "toots". And then promptly die a most painful death.

Anyway, I was going for maximum cheese here, and I've an uncomfortable sensation that I succeeded.

As for Mr. Gentleman and his teddy bear…no comment. :o)


End file.
